


lives built on sand

by badAquatic



Series: Trailerstuck [72]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/M, M/M, Organized Crime, Original Character(s), Original Troll Characters, Triggered Kankri, discussion of past rape, discussion of past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2846621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After several days of avoiding the elephant in the room, Karkat returns to face down some personal demons left there. </p><p>Takes place immediately after "where home is".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. back to the grind

**== >Be Karkat on Saturday morning **

The office is stiflingly warm. You know it gets a little chilly in New Jack but it’s never cold enough to warrant having the heater on full blast. Its even harder to tolerate wearing a suit but you ignore it and concentrate on the lawyer’s words. Rufioh looks even more uncomfortable than you. The lawyer’s a coldblood and ignores the heat, droning on about property laws, tax liens, and litigation. After the meeting Rufioh and you both ride the elevator down and immediately loosen your ties.

“Screw this monkey suit.” Rufioh grunts, “I have no idea how people dress like this for work every day.”

“With fancy hats too.” You snicker.

“ _Gods_.” Rufioh finally takes off the tie and walks to the exit with you following. “I hope you realize we’re not getting that land anytime soon. They’ll string us along as much as possible.”

You shrug. “It’d be different in the property was worth something but it’s not. It’s not making the local government any money so there’s no reason for them to hold onto it. It’s only a matter of time before they hand it over.”

You head out to the parking lot and climb into the truck, which looks completely out of place with all the other pristine top of the line cars.

“Can you drop me off at the Squalor? I have work in a couple of minutes.” You say.

Rufioh frowns. “You’re going back to Little Trussia?”

“There a problem with that?”

Rufioh opens his mouth but then reconsiders and shuts it. “No problem at all.”

There’s still concern in his bronze eyes. He’s smart enough to piece together who you really work for; the kind of people who taught you how to kill and cut someone’s limbs off. You try to make small talk, to distract from the tension in the car, but there’s no point as it immediately dies out like a starting fire during a gust storm. So you silently sit in the car with the radio droning and you trying to think of what will happen in the Railway.

You’ve already memorized the Railway’s entrances and exits so you know how to evade someone chasing after you. You doubt the other employees will help you since their loyalties are to Sergei. You don’t even know if you have the skills to kill Sergei if he attacks you. You brought your sickle in your messenger bag but Sergei is the one who trained you to use it.

You’d only win in a fight against Sergei if you think fast… _if_ he doesn’t try to poison you first. Though if you have to fight Sergei first, you doubt you can take on Meliak. He’s far bigger and heavier. He’d definitely pick you up by the ankle and toss you out the window. You’d have to be on your wits for that conflict.

When you arrive at the Railway, your stomach’s in knots. You want to puke but can’t show weakness. You leave the truck and nod to Rufioh and walk head held high. The closer you walk to the Railway’s familiar door’ you recall the happy times you’ve had here. You recall the laughter you shared with Sergei, learning Trussian, serving up food and drinks to customers. The conversations about romance and politics with your coworkers who shared your past pains. You question how much of Sergei’s friendliness had been false and just meant to manipulate you.

You try to open the door but find it locked. It refuses to budge so you bang at it. A window opens a floor above you and a yellowblood pokes their head out.

“Karkat?” asks Mievil. “You’re back?”

You look up at him. “Yeah. What’s going on?”

Mievil frowns and ducks his head back inside. You hear him through the open window. “Someone get the word downstairs!”

A few minutes later there’s a clatter behind the door and it opens. Laclan looks at you and his mouth is shrunken and his expression bitter. “Karkat.” he says, quietly, “We weren’t sure if you’d come.”

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“You better come inside…” Laclan sighs.

The inside of the Railway is dark. People are sitting at booths and tables, looking gloomy or drinking vodka from unmarked bottles. You don’t see Dom among the groups of five or more. You never even realized the Railway had so many employees until they’re all grouped together in a single room outside of working shifts.

Then you realize someone crucial is missing from the room. “Where’s Sergei?”

Laclan looks down, arms folded. “We don’t know.”

You frown. “What do you mean ‘don’t know’?”

“It’s just that.” says a brownblood, “Sergei and some of the boys took off at sundown and didn’t come back. Ain’t answering their phones either.”

“’They’?” you ask.

The brownblood just hiccups and starts chugging more rotgut liquor. Laclan clarifies for you, “Yesterday, Sergei got a phone call. None of us know what it pertained to but he had us close the bar early. He took the strongest and most intimidating of us with him and left in a hurry.”

So Sergei gathered everyone who wasn’t working in the bar just mixing drinks and making stew; the same group of people that would’ve included you had you not been on a post-shootout sabbatical. “Does anyone know where they went?”

“Not a clue.” Laclan says, still quiet, “We’re only here because we live here. We don’t have anywhere else to go.”

You’re more curious as to where Sergei and the others could have gone. You hadn’t heard anything on the morning news about a shootout, fight, or even a domestic disturbance. It had been a peaceful Saturday in New Jack for a change. Not having Sergei around makes you more skittish. You don’t think you can sleep easily without knowing Sergei’s whereabouts.

“I’ll find out what happened.” You promise.  

Laclan tilts his head. “What can you do?”

“I’m going to call around.” you say, “In the meanwhile, we need to open the bar.”

Laclan frowns. “Open the bar? Without Sergei? Without Dom?”

You hadn’t thought about Dom. He was closest to Sergei and now Sergei is gone and Dom remains. “I know the situation’s not ideal but the Railway is Sergei’s and I think in his absence he would want us to maintain it.”

“Who’s supposed to lead the kitchen without Dom?”

“Laclan, you’ve been here for _years._ He can’t be the only one who knows how to tell people to chop an onion.” You say, walking to the back office.

The door is locked and the keys aren’t with the jumble in the break room. It figures that Sergei would have the office keys on him, so you use your sickle to break open the lock. The office isn’t as pristine as Sergei usually keeps it. Yesterday’s newspaper is on the desk with a mug of ice cold coffee, a small saucer with crumbs on it, and the bar’s financial books with a pen on it.

So Sergei had been working when he was interrupted. He thought he would be back immediately so he didn’t bother putting anything away, but remembered to lock the door. You observe the ledger but there’s nothing interesting in it: just a lot of sales, taxes, and numbers that don’t matter. You consider moving things on the desk but you don’t want your fingertips to smudge any evidence. You make sure the door is shut and turn on your iHusk. There are two messages from your mother so you call him first.

“Mom, what’s going on? Are you alright?” you ask.

“I’m alright but I’m sort of in a…situation.” Cronus says. He sounds exhausted over the phone.

“What?” Immediately fear grips you. “What’s going on? Are you safe? Are you alright?”

“Karkat, calm down. It’s not _that_ kind of situation.” Cronus yawns. “Sorry, I was up most of the night. I nodded off and didn’t wake up until now. I tried to get in contact with you and then Kankri and now I’m just sort of…well…”  

Your concern only slightly deflates. Cronus always downplays when he’s in peril or near peril. “What’s going on?”

“I was gonna to ask _you_. Last night Meliak comes to me, says something came up with work, and asks if I can watch Karcin for the night. He says he’ll be back at midnight at the latest and I say ‘sure’, since I don’t have to be to work until later. I spend all night with Karcin but soon it’s two in the morning and nobody’s shown up! I called them but I didn’t get an answer.”

“ _Shit_.” This situation is just getting worse. “Meliak and Sergei aren’t at the Railway either and no one’s seen them. How’s Karcin doing?”

“Fussy, angry, and biting. I gave him his favorite toy but that doesn’t seem to be cheering him up.” Cronus sighs. “What am I supposed to do? Karcin’s not my kid and I’m too old to handle another one.”

“Mom, you’re not even _that_ old. Your lifespan’s a thousand something years.”

“And I already got grey hairs from Eridan and you!” Cronus insists.

“If you don’t want to take care of him, then just drop him off at a surrender station. They’ll put him somewhere.”

“Do you have any idea the condition of those troll foster homes?” Cronus sounds like you slapped him.

“Hey, this is just a suggestion! You’re the one that wants to get rid of him!”

“I don’t want to get _rid_ of him. Karcin’s annoying but he’s not a pest. He’s a little grub and he’s alone and _scared_ , Karkat. You should see his scrunched little face…” Your mother sighs. “Maybe I should give him one of Meliak’s shirts.”

“Why would that help?”

“You used to get upset when your grandfather was gone for a long time so I used to wrap you in one of his sweaters. When you molted into a kit, I turned one of his sweaters into your first blanket.”

Gods that sounds ridiculously sappy and exactly like something Cronus would do. “You should still call the police and let them know that his parents are missing so you don’t get framed for grubnapping. Sergei and Meliak might show up eventually.”

“What could be keeping them from their son? They don’t seem neglectful _._ ” You finally hear the crying amplify in the background and Cronus sighs. “Okay, I’m going to give him a shirt and then go to the station.”

“Alright. If there’s anyone there associated with Meliak, let them know what’s going on.”

You doubt Meliak would live with a bunch of upstanding citizens so _someone_ has to have a clue about where they could have possibly gone.

The next person you call is Dirk but you get his voicemail. You leave a message. He’s offline for Trollichum too but you send a message anyways. You leave the office and see people are working in the bar now. There’s little conversation and there’s still a gloomy aura in the air. Dom still isn’t present in the kitchen but Laclan is overseeing it. Without Dom’s high strung energy, the kitchen is as boring as any job.

You approach Laclan. “Where’s Dom at? Don’t tell me he disappeared too.”

Laclan shakes his head. “He’s in his apartment. He was the first to realize Sergei wasn’t here and well…you know how close they were. Mievil tried to get him to come out but he’s not talking.”

You nod. “He needs his space…” You’re not as bold as Kankri to force your way into a stranger telling you about their private miseries.

You leave the kitchen and go back to the bar. After such a long absence, it feels like coming back to an old house and walking around. It’s familiar but changed by time. Still you remember the location of all the alcohol and the glasses. You don’t know if any customers will come in today but being prepared is important.


	2. retriggered

**== >Karkat: Be the other mutantblood **

 

You can’t bear to look at the clothes from that night. Last night. Even thinking about last night—recalling what you saw—makes you shiver. The fear is infectious and dangerous, threatening to tear apart your sanity that you’ve worked so hard to cobble together. No. No, you’re not going to give up your progress because of this incident. You’re not getting pushed down the dark hole of negatives and addictions.

Gods, you want a drink.

You want to drink yourself into oblivion and never think about what you saw again. You want it erased from your memory forever. You need to drink but you can’t. You promised Terezi. You promised everyone you wouldn’t drink again. You even gave your keys to Terezi and told her to hide them because you didn’t trust yourself.

You are Kankri and you are struggling with everything.

You didn’t even want to leave the coon but Terezi coaxed you out. Her usually soothing voice was background noise against your loud and static filled fears. You can only answer her in warbles and whispers. You take a shower and manage to slip into a robe but all you do is ball up on the couch. Terezi tries to talk to you but you don’t respond. She turns on the TV in hopes to engage you but its only whispers against the noise.

You don’t know what time it is and you don’t care. Terezi is calling people on the phone, trying to see if anyone knows what frightened you or if they could come over. You’re worrying her and although you know that, there’s nothing you can do about it. Terezi called Cronus a while ago but he hasn’t come or maybe he _won’t_ come. It was only a matter of time before he got sick of you too.

Your father wouldn’t burden his quadrants like this. You’re not a pale imitation of your father. You’re an ugly poisonous bootlegged that sickens children with toxic lead paint. You’re the defect people throw away.

“Kankri.” Terezi says, her voice finally cutting through the static and ambient noise of the TV. Her cool hand touches your cheek.  

“I’m a mess.” You mutter into the sofa cushions.

“You can still bounce back. The day isn’t over yet.”

“Do you think I’m defective?”

“What?”

“Do you think that my father and his generation think I’m…defective? Like I was supposed to be someone great and wonderful but I turned into… _this_? Maybe that’s why my mother hasn’t come to see me in person. It hurts to look at what a failure I am.”

“Kankri, nobody’s perfect. Not even your father. And I’m sure your mother has a good reason for not seeing you, it’s probably a good one.” Terezi’s fingers run through your hair. “It doesn’t matter what others think. You have to be happy with who you are.”

“It’s hard to constantly be happy…”

“No one’s constantly happy. Everyone has ups and downs.”

“I love you.” You shut your eyes. “I’m sorry about all of this…”

She kisses your forehead and whispers back. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I love you too.”

You don’t feel any better. You doubt the guilt is going to fade anytime soon. You’re sorry for everything you’re putting her through with her nerves.

Terezi continues to stroke your hair, holding onto you. “Cronus is having a situation. He says he can’t come here right away. Is there anything else you want to talk to?”

“I don’t care who comes.” You whisper, “I’d welcome anyone to take away how I feel.”

Terezi calls Meenah since she’s the only one available. Dirk isn’t here and no one can get in contact with him so she’s the next candidate. Your fuchsiablood half-sister takes twenty minutes to show up and the shootout must have triggered her worse than you. One of her hairs has turned grey and on a fuchsia that’s purely stress related. She came to New Jack with a single silvery strand after surviving Leder. She’s carrying a blinged out bag.

She looks at you and then Terezi. “What triggered him?”

“I don’t know. He showed up late last night like this.” Terezi asks.

Meenah looks at you and frowns, looking fuchsia around the gills. “This is just like how he was after he left… _that_ _guy_.”

She must mean Capone, whose always been treated like a boogeyman amongst his family; as if saying his name would summon him from the shadows. There _are_ similarities between your escape from the hidden harem and now. Grisly images that float in front of your eyes before sinking down into the mists of your fear. Fresh blood draining into the mud and laughter and sanguinary satisfaction _gods_ this is most miraculous—

“Kankri?” Terezi asks.

You look at your matesprit. You’re trembling like it’s a cold winter night in Illaska, tears running down your face. You sit up and wipe at your eyes. “I’m still seeing it.” you whisper. “It’s burned into my _mind_.”

“Maybe you should tell us about what?” Meenah suggests.

“I…I _can’t_ …” you whimper, “…it’s too…”

You don’t want to think about it. Thinking too much about it would give it permanence in your mind.

Meenah sits on the other side of you and holds the bag in her lap. “Well, I got something that _might_ take your mind off that.” You don’t know what it could be but you doubt it’ll work. Your sister pulls a large box out of the bag, decorated with glitter. “Mom sent us something.”

“Mom…?” You try to think of your mother but you can only see her as a towering fuchsiablood holding you in her arms.  She wouldn’t want to be bothered with present day you. You’re no longer cute. You’re just weak and cowardly.

You see the blood again. In the cool night air it’s black and wet on the dirt. You can taste it in the air. The death knells of your enemies surround you, swallowed up by the thick trees.

You shudder and push away the images. You focus on Meenah, whose opening the box. You watch her unfold two bulky sweaters, studded with beads and fake jewelry. Yours is striped red and white with a big blinged out golden crab in the center of the chest. Meenah’s is striped fuchsia and white with a blinged out sharp over the chest. The sheer amount of decorations and color on it almost burns your eyes.

“That is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.” You take the sweater and hold it close. Its downy soft and smells of your mother’s perfume. “I’ll treasure it for as long as I live.”

Changing out of your robes and into the cozy sweater improves you mood tenfold. It’s a little big but it’s comfortable at least. You get a cup of coffee and sit with your sister.

“Where did your mother get the measurements for Kankri from?” Terezi asks.

“I think she measured her boy-toy and took a guess at what would be comfortable on adult Kankri.” Meenah says.

You frown. “What boy-toy?”

“Ohhh, yeah. I didn’t tell you.” Meenah mutters, her cheeks flushing, “Mom has a new man.”

You should have known your mother would get new quadrants, but you still feel squeamish about someone dating her. “Are they nice…?”

Meenah shrugs. “I’ve never met him so I don’t know, but I doubt Mom would tolerate being quadranted to a jerk. All I know is that they’re a warmblood and muscular.” She smirks. “I bet it’s another threshecutioner. Mom has a thing for trolls in uniform.”

“Is it a relative?” Terezi asks.  

Meenah pauses. “I don’t know if Dad had other children. He did travel a lot during his addict days but I doubt he would have another kid and just not care for them. He loved all his kids and grandkids.”

“I know…” Your father had tried to talk with you about locating the eggs you gave away but you were too sick with self-loathing and horror at what you’d done that you couldn’t bear to hear about it. There was no chance any of them survived.

Except for one. Maybe.

“Kankri…?” Meenah asks, worriedly.

“I’m fine.” You smile. “With all the chaos, we never got a chance to race our car. We were almost done fixing it up too.”

Meenah sighs, slumping back on the couch. “ _I know!_ We were so close to being done too. Though I guess I’ll have plenty of time to work on it since I might getting laid off from the shipbreaking yard like all the other grunts.”

“Have you tried looking into another job?”

“With my experience? I was trying to see if there were any junkyards hiring.”

Terezi chuckles and leaves the room, her fears finally eased.

“Do you know what they’re going to do about the sinkhole on Neiro?” you ask.

“There’s talk of abandoning Neiro but the DD brought up trying to drain the swamp instead.” Meenah rolls her eyes. “He’s only suggesting it because people are leaving the park instead of just relocating it.”

You snort at the idea of anyone trying to drain that monstrous swamp. “Better men than him have tried to best the swamp.”

Meenah folds her arms. “Fef wants Jane to stay with us when she gets out of the hospital since she doesn’t have a place. She wants to pay her back for all her kindness.”

You smirk. “I know you’re going to love that: two ladies gabbing about Jegus every night and day.” Meenah’s response is an annoyed groan. You pat her on the back. “You’re always welcome to hide out here.”

“As long as they don’t start ganging up on me to go to church, I’ll live.” Meenah snorts.

“Oh, that reminds me. There’s something I wanted to show you.” You leave for the bedroom and return with the album mother sent you. You flip to the back section and show her the picture of young Karkat as Gamblignant Moon with the masked child. You point to the masked child. “Do you know who this is?”

Meenah looks at the picture and the blood drains from her face. She inhales slowly and eases from the picture. “The Minotaur.”

“Minotaur?” you ask.

“It’s from Leder,” Meenah whispers, “The heart of Leder was crowded with so many concrete buildings built on top of other buildings that it was easy to get lost, especially in the troll ghettoes. So the children in the troll ghettoes made a game. They called their home the Concrete Labyrinth and at the center was a monster. The Minotaur. ‘Don’t let the Minotaur get you!’ they’d say. ‘If the Minotaur finds you, he’ll eat you bones and all.’ ‘Only come out when the Minotaur is asleep but don’t ever wake him up.’”

 

 

“So, it’s an urban legend from Leder then?”

“Something like that…” Meenah stands. “I should go. I don’t like leaving Fef alone for too long.”

You can’t encourage Meenah to stay any longer. You sit on the couch and feel only pushed further in the dark regarding the mystery of the masked child. You put down the album and go to Terezi in the bedroom. She’s lying down with the eggs and you snuggle next to her. You don’t know what you would do without her.

 


	3. the fun of the catch

**== >Kankri: Be Dirk at that moment **

You got up yesterday morning, took a long look at the bags under your eyes, and realized you needed a break: from the Ninth Ward, from urban squalor, from thinking about Jake…from _everything_. So early Saturday morning you leave a note for Dave and Jade that you’re heading out early and won’t be back until evening and you’re turning off your cell.

You drive out to Berezin Lake with Petros. The best part about driving with the brownblood is that (unlike Kankri) he doesn’t constantly mess with the radio or insist on talking. Most of the drive is relaxing and thankfully silent. At the lake, it’s quiet. The sun has just started to rise and most of the lusii are still asleep.

Your first comment of the morning is: “Jegus, I forgot what _silence_ was like.” You get out of the car and feel the grass under your boots. You’re even starting to forget what it’s like to look at long stretches of grass uninterrupted by pavement or garbage.

Petros is silent, wearing his usual ensemble of clothing, although he had picked a jacket with sleeves. He follows you out of the truck toward the lake and tilts his head as he looks over the grass and sand. “Enjoy it while it lasts. They are zoning this area for suburban sprawl and all. You have to keep going further and further out to find anything natural, but the city isn't all noise either. Sometimes at night, when all the streets settle just after one, you could hear a pin drop,”

You’ll be sad to see this quiet place go. Every year the city is expanding, consuming everything green in its path while leaving the older and poorer sections in consistent disrepair. The city’s a malnourished monster, eating everything and still starving.

You go back to the truck to drag the boat out of the back. Petros follows and watches. “First they talk about tripling the police task force and making the city safe again, building a vacuum transport between here and Midway, and now they’re erecting more pointless strip malls?” You think of the levees, the only thing that keeps most of New Jack from being underwater, and question the last time they were repaired or examined by engineers.

The boat easily gets out of the truck. It rolls down to the shore easily enough, aided by the land sloping toward the water. Petros is standing by the shore, watching you.

“It’ll end in disaster.” You conclude.

“Everything eventually ends in some sort of disaster. Every civilization comes crashing down, the big difference is what survivors do in the aftermath,” Petros says with a slight chuckle. He moves down to the lakeside, dipping a claw into the water. Immediately a school of tiny fish swim circles around the claw, “But we didn't come out here to be old men and philosophers about the end of things. That makes you old real quick.”

“Oh please. I’m already old.”

You push the boat into the water, watching the fish temporarily disperse around it. You don’t envy the strength or size of troll biology but sometimes you wish for psionics, if just to know the experience of connecting with another living thing on a level only you can understand.

“There’s nothing like having infants and grubs running around to make you feel your age.” You smirk at Petros. “Though between us I think you have the most descendants pending.”

Petros smirks back. “That is through no fault of my own. Blame my oversexed descendants.”

You laugh and walk into the shallow water, following the boat. Some people prefer getting into the boat via the pier but you like it this way. People have been fishing long before there were piers, lifeguards, or plastic barriers separating one lakeside property from the other. You’ve been guerilla fishing since you were old enough to string words together, whether it was with tools or by hand. Today you’re using tools just because you’re not in a mood to get drenched catching fish by hand.

“It’s totally cheating to use psionics for fishing.” you say.

“It’s not cheating.” Petros smirks. “I’m using the tools nature gave me.”

“It is _so_ cheating to make them jump into your bucket.” You argue, “You probably told them you were going to take them to meet Sebastian and Ariel instead of a frying pan.”

“Oh please.” Petros grins, showing off his fangs, “Fish aren’t even _that_ bright. You promise them something ‘shiny’ and they’ll go about everywhere.” He shrugs. “Of course most animals aren’t bright. They just have a basic understanding of human concepts but don’t place much emphasis on it. Except for elephants, primates, and whales. They’re the most uptight animals you’d ever meet.”

“Really now?”

“Oh yeah. They’re basically people.”

“What about dolphins?”

Petros shudders. “Don’t get me started on _dolphins.._.”

“Well, we’ll see who catches the most fish.”

Petros doesn’t so much catch fish as he has them toss themselves at you. You end up throwing some skinny fish at him. Eventually you both give up and try just relaxing and fishing the regular way. The point of this trip isn’t competition as it is relaxation. Very little conversation or interaction with the outside world; just calmness and water.

It’s tempting to fall asleep with how relaxed you’re feeling.  

“Do you have any plans with your grandchildren?” you ask.

“I have no clue.” Petros admits, “I’m still trying to talk to connect with my daughter.”

“What does your moirail say?”

“My moirail isn’t found of ceruleanbloods period, to be honest.” Petros sighs, “She knows I have to do this for my personal sake but she doesn’t think any good will come of it. The last time I got the ire of a ceruleanblood, it was my ex-matesprit.”

“And your auspistice?”

Petros laughs. “He hates this place and everyone here. I can’t especially blame him for it. He thinks the latest generation of trolls are timid and sheepish. He’s partially right. They may as well have been raised in Leder.”

“This may be just the human perspective but it’s not timid or sheepish to avoid conflict, especially with someone you care about.” you say, “A lot of trolls here avoid violent conflict because there’s not a lot of space between them and their antagonists. This generation of trolls was raised on TV after all. They want loving families, not distance.”

Petros silently considers but then adds, “I still don’t like how close everyone has to be. Quadrants and boundaries are as clear as mud and there doesn’t seem to be any reason of what anyone’s supposed to be doing with it.”

“It really isn’t,” you laugh, “but then again, nothing you do at this age is ever clear. What were you doing when you were eighteen?”

“Eighteen?” Petros thinks briefly. “Killing aliens for my empire and pailing.” He pauses. “Pailing? Gods, I’m old.”

“Aren’t you glad they don’t have that pressure? They’re allowed to explore and be who they are.” You feel a tug on your line and reel it in. “I think you’re just experiencing culture shock.”

“ _Culture_ shock?” Petros considers it. “Maybe. Still, you must hate how close and intrusive everyone can be. It’s insane how much everyone knows about each other or how impossible it is to keep a secret.”

“I’ll admit it’s a little annoying but it’s not as oppressive as Leder.” you answer, “The occasional nosy neighbor or concerned brother is nothing compared to the neighborhood and building associations that would shove their way into people’s homes and push ‘undesirables’ out.”

“It’s not hard to compete with the bottom of the barrel though.”

You don’t argue that point. You lapse into another silence. The sky is lighting up and birds are moving across. You eat jerky to tide you over for breakfast.

“What’s your matesprit’s condition?” Petros asks.

“Its bad.” You say, knowing you don’t have to sugarcoat the truth, “I haven’t told anyone the full extent of the damage because I don’t want them to worry. He cracked four of his ribs, right lung was punctured, broke his right arm and hand, and the left eye was unsalvageable.”

“What about his legs?”

“The left leg is banged up but the right kneecap was heavily damaged. Even with surgery, they doubt he’ll be able to walk normally on it again. He’ll need a cane for the rest of his life.”

“So what can be done?”

“Only the extreme. They only clone necessary organs on our insurance and that doesn’t cover legs. The entire leg can be removed and replaced with an artificial limb but that comes with its own challenges.”

“I was never fond of artificial limbs. Even the ones back home tended to be shoddy and temperamental.” says Petros, “Of course the weight would also throw my flying off.”

“I’m sure it would.” Weight is always critical when it comes to flight.

You lapse back into silence again. You manage to catch several fish and gut them by the lakeside. You work in silence, focusing on the task. You keep what’s edible and give the rest to scavenging lusii. Petros even feeds them by hand, clucking and humming as a farmer would to chickens.

“Does this work on grubs?” you ask.

“It worked on my moirail’s.” Petros chuckles.

“Your moirail has children?”

“Yes, for the first time in a long time. They hate being touched by anyone but they like me.”

“That seems…”

“Unusual, I know, but not uncommon. It may be a temporary thing but if not”—Petros shrugs—“his parents will learn to adjust. What grub are you adopting?”

“Tealblood. Jake and I have wanted to adopt for a while but the adoption process is expensive and takes a while. Even though we had the income for it, they declined because of Jake’s past. That and a rather xenophobic viewpoint on us both being immigrants.”

“At least they’ll have a good home.”

“Do you have any other children?”

Petros shakes his head. “I’ve tried but it never works out for long. My moirail and I talked about it for a long time and she thinks I have some kind of mental block. I feel too much guilt over what happened to Aranea and Rufioh to properly move on and start my own life. My auspistice had the same problem until things were emotionally resolved with him, so she suggested that I try some closure.”

“What if you don’t get ‘closure’?” You never got closure with Squarewave or Sawtooth before they were gone.

Petros chuckles. “Closure isn't always exactly what we want. As my auspice says, it is the closing of one door and moving on to the next. Accepting what is done is done, no changing it...and looking up and seeing six more doors still open."

You don’t know if that’s true. You’ve given up on seeking closure for the others you were with for a long time now.

You don’t start talking again until you’re arranging branches for the fire.

“If you like it out here so much, how come you stayed in the city?” Petros asks.

“Karkat asks me the same thing all the time,” You chuckle and focus on lighting the fire, “I could afford to stay out here I would miss my friends and so would Dave. I think I’d retire out here.”

You look up from the now smoldering branches and see Petros is frowning. Then you realized you mentioned the ‘K’ word. You both promised not to mention the mutantbloods, currently the banes of your existence: Kankri for his oppressive kindness and Karkat for his confusing behavior.

The conversation lapses into silence again and you don’t push it. The fire comes to life and you quickly roast the fish. You eat together, spitting out bones into the rubbish bucket. You’re not the only ones around for the meal as cats and lusii alike are now keeps you company.

“I never cared that much for freshwater fish,” You say, “It has a strange aftertaste.”

“Are you sure that’s the fish and not the possible chemical leak around here?” Petros snickers.

You laugh. “I’ve been eating and drinking the water in my neighborhood and I’m still alive. I doubt that _this_ could kill me.” You toss the remainders of your fish at a stray cat that insists on trying to being your friend.

You sit around the fire. The noonday sun moves on and starts heading toward the lake horizon. Time seems to be blazing by. You’ve gone almost a whole day without looking at your cellphone or having several tasks to juggle. You’re feeling a little anxious but you promised to give yourself a break.

“So what do you believe in?” you ask, “I haven’t heard you mention any of the other gods that Eridan and Damara believe in.”

Petros grins. “You don’t want to know what black magic I’m dancing to, blondie.”

You grin back. “I’m a mythology person. All we ever do is listen to people’s black magic.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Does it at least have something to do with that toxic sinkhole that just opened up?” Petros seemed curious about what was going on there.

“It’s not toxic.” Petros touches his chin, smiling. “I can assure you that the water there is fresh as hell.”

You shake your head. “In the Ninth Ward? You’d have to dig down at least a mile to get _fresh_ water. Maybe even deeper.” Petros shrugs indifferently and you add, “Even if it _is_ fresh, people won’t care when it starts expanding and destroying the rest of their homes.”

“It won’t expand.”

You tilt your head. “Are you a geoscientist now too?”

“No, it won’t…” He shakes his head slowly. “Such…things…tend not to grow. Think of it as an open door rather than a hole. The water is fresh. You can distill it from the pit. It’s healthier than anything on the tap.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You’re sure it’s not true but there’s a strange confidence to his voice that makes you question it. You’ll definitely have to watch the news tonight since you know they’re still experimenting on the sinkhole’s properties.

In the late afternoon it starts to rain and the fire dies away quickly. You pack up, pulling the boat from the shore, and back onto the truck. You both turn your cellphones back on to find them full of messages. Petros speaks with his auspistice (who must be yelling at him for being silent for so long). It’s tempting to eavesdrop but you don’t.

Your messages are less urgent so far. There’s Dave saying Jade’s gone crazy. There’s Jade telling you that the trailer is going on a junk food ban (which you think is a good idea but you’re sure Dave is throwing a fit). Roxy asking you what the hell happened to Jane’s trailer. Terezi asking if you know something strange happened last night.

In the midst of this there are no messages from Kankri though. he’s not even in online. It’s strange but you don’t actually care. You’re finally getting the space you want. Not that you care. You’re glad he’s finally giving you space.

Lastly, you have a message from Karkat.

 

\--carcinoGeneticist[CG] began trolling timaeusTestified[TT] at 8:30AM!--

\--timaeusTestified[TT] is offline!--

 

CG: HEY, DIRK, HAVE YOU HEARD ANYTHING FROM SERGEI OR MELIAK? THEY’RE NOT AT THE RAILWAY AND NO ONE KNOWS WHERE THEY ARE.

 

You haven’t talked to Sergei since the shootout and Meliak hates you with a fiery passion. If he had it his way, your body would at the bottom of the swamp with the uncooperative prostitutes and failed foot soldiers.  

 

\--timaeusTestified[TT] is online!--

\--timaeusTesitified[TT] began trolling carcinoGeneticist[CG]!--

 

TT: No, I haven’t heard from Sergei. We’re not on speaking terms right now. Have they shown up yet?

CG: OH SHIT, DIRK!

CG: WE DIDN'T KNOW WHERE YOU WERE EITHER. I MEAN JADE FOUND YOUR NOTE BUT YOUR PHONE WAS TURNED OFF.

TT: I was taking a mental break from everything going on. Where are you now? 

CG: I'M STILL AT THE RAILWAY. WE OPENED UP JUST TO KEEP PEOPLE'S MIND OFF OF SERGEI BEING GONE.

CG: SOME CUSTOMERS CAME IN BUT IT WAS JUST A BUNCH OF OLD GUYS. THEY HAVE NO CLUE WHERE SERGEI IS, OR WHO HE IS FOR THAT MATTER.

 

So Sergei and Meliak are both missing and no one in their gang has shown up. They must be on high alert…or they’re missing too.

 

TT: Are Meliak and Sergei the only opnes missing?

CG: NO, SOME OTHER GUYS ARE MISSING. I DON’T KNOW THEM PERSONALLY BUT THEY’RE THE KIND OF GUYS THAT IF YOU WERE A CLICHÉ SUPERVILLAIN THEY WOULD DEFINITELY BE THE FIRST PEOPLE YOU’D GO FOR HIRED MUSCLE.

TT: Does anyone know when they left?

CG: LACLAN SAID THEY SERGEI HAD THEM CLOSE UP EARLY LAST NIGHT AND HE TOOK OFF IN A HURRY. I LOOKED AROUND HIS OFFICE AND IT SEEMS LIKE SERGEI WAS EXPECTING TO COME BACK HERE. HE LEFT HIS COFFEE AND OTHER STUFF OUT AND MELIAK LEFT HIS SON WITH CRONUS.

TT: You went snooping around Sergei’s office?

CG: I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE THERE WASN’T A DEAD BODY INSIDE THERE OR ANYTHING ELSE INCRIMINATING. I DIDN’T TOUCH ANYTHING.

TT: Well don’t go back in there. I think you should close up early just to be on the safe side.

CG: OKAY. ALSO, DO YOU KNOW WHAT'S UP WITH KANKRI?

TT: I haven’t heard from him. I was actually enjoying the silence and lack of meddling.

CG: TEREZI SAID HE CAME HOME REALLY LATE LAST NIGHT COMPLETELY FREAKED OUT. WE THINK HE SAW SOMETHING INCREDIBLY TRIGGERING BUT HE’S TOO SCARED TO TALK ABOUT IT. HIS IHUSK IS MISSING TOO.

TT: And you’re asking me this because…?

CG: I KNOW KANKRI AND YOU PLATONICALLY HATE EACH OTHER BUT YOU TEND TO KNOW ALL THE SECRETIVE STUFF THAT GOES ON AROUND HERE.

TT: I’ll admit that it is peculiar. Kankri isn’t triggered that badly by the mundane, but it does seem like a strange coincidence. I’ll look into it as best as I can and I’ll update you if anything changes.

CG: ALRIGHT.  

 

\--timaeusTestified[TT!] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist[CG]!--

 

\--timaeusTestified[TT] began trolling slipperySleuth[SS]!--

 

TT: You there?

SS: I thought I told you never to contact me unless I contact you or you had info, so you better be achin’ with so much info that it’d make the wikileaks guy blush.

TT: You also told me to tell you when strange things were going on so here I am.

SS: You got five minutes of my attention before I cut off.

TT: Two of my Trussian contacts have reportedly gone missing since last night. No one knows where they are and according to my other contact, the one that runs the Railway had left in a hurry. Some other Trussians are missing as well.

SS: I figured some shit was goin’ on when Papa Lobster wasn’t hanging around. I didn’t know other Trussians were missing though that’s more your jurisdiction than mine.

TT: If neither Meliak nor Sergei return, I suggest a takeover. The bar is a primo spot and you could always use a more flexible cover. I’m sure your superiors and Brotherhood contacts will look on it as a favorable takeover.

SS: It’s an idea but if we move too quickly we’ll risk trouble. Plus, we need all the legal documents.

TT: My face is known around the Railway. I can easily acquire them along with anything else you need. I’ll also check Meliak’s place if you want me to.

SS: No, you’re not known around here. I’ll take care of it. We’ll pull together once we acquire what we need.

TT: Agreed. Talk to you later then.

SS: Yup.

 

\--slipperySleuth[SS] ceased trolling timaeusTestified[TT]!--

 

Petros walks over to you, looking as tired as you do. With his often blank expression, it’s hard to tell what’s troubling him and what he’s considering. Considering that you often wear the same expression during your dealings with the outside world, you’re not worried about his lack of expression as much as the others would be.

“Looks like the outside world wants us back again.” you say.

Petros shrugs. “It’s to be expected. They can’t get very much accomplished without us manly men around to help them.”

You snicker. “Yes, they _definitely_ need our knowledge and muscles around to help.”

You laugh and get inside the truck. Petros prefers to ride in the back, lying down and enjoying the open the air.

You arrive at your trailer to a lot of noise. Jade and John are arguing. Bec and Sonny Jr. are cuddling in the corner but immediately stand and walk over to Petros once he’s in the doorway, barking and wagging their tails.

“I was kind of hoping _not_ to come home to a lot of insanity,” You sigh. Jade grumbles and doesn’t look at you, “What is it?”

“Nothing outside of the usual. I’m late.” John says, dismissively. With a flurry of fingers that passes for a goodbye, he leaves through the backdoor with the door slamming.

“I give up!” Jade announces, arms skyward, “If he wants to burn out running that crazy schedule that’s fine by me.”

You have noticed John coming and going at all hours of the night. You doubt Jane would allow such behavior in her home, but she’s often on a hectic schedule too. Still, she must have noticed something going on by now…or is this a recent habit?

“Sounds like someone’s having a rebellious phase.” Petros says, kneeling on the ground with Bec and Sonny Jr.

“We’re all too old to still be doing that.” Jade grumbles, sitting on the pull out bed.

“Some people’s rebellious stages last well into their thirties.” you say.  

The bathroom door opens and you hear Karkat laugh. He steps into the living room, with only a towel wrapped around his waist and another drying his hair. “John Egbert: the thirty year old rebel. At that rate he’s going to be having his midlife crisis at eighty if we’re so luc--”

Karkat looks over at Petros and freezes. Petros looks at him and then slowly looks away.

“Shit. Sorry.” Karkat mutters, turning away. He sounds more annoyed than embarrassed about the situation. The mutantblood quickly retreats into the bedroom and Petros chooses this as a time to leave before Karkat comes back out.  

You could cut the awkward between those two trolls with a knife. You know neither troll are interested in each other, so why the strange behavior? Still, it’s not your place to speculate.

When Karkat comes out of the bedroom (now wearing a sleeveless shirt and jeans) Jade chuckles at him, “Karkat, you scared your crush away.”

Karkat glares at her. “He’s not my crush. I just don’t want anyone ogling my heftsacks, which he wasn’t doing but it was still it was…” He inhales slowly, subconsciously covering his heftsacks.

“Karkat, we should talk,” you say, “upstairs.”

Karkat nods and quickly follows you upstairs.

“Did you find out what happened to Meliak and Sergei?” Karkat asks, sitting on the couch.

“No, but if they’re gone then…” Your voice trails because you don’t know what to say. You never planned ahead for this so you just lapse into an uncomfortable silence.

“Are you…sad?” Karkat asks. You stare at him and he elaborates, “You grew up with Sergei. He was like your brother and you were the one that brought me to him after I was…abducted.”

“Sergei knew the risks of his lifestyle and I knew you had been dragged into that same lifestyle but didn’t warn you because you’re smart enough to realize it and old enough to make your own decisions.”

“I know,” Karkat nervously wrings his hands, “and if you warned me, I would have clung tighter. I knew I was being manipulated but I liked the comfort of Sergei and Meliak. I did like them.” He frowns. “They were my greatest friends and my worst enemies. Now they’re gone.”

“They’re dead.” You say, unflinchingly. Trussians don’t run from their duties but you consider this a blessing in disguise. Karkat could take on Sergei at his skill level but not Meliak. He wouldn’t be able to _crawl_ from that confrontation. “Do you feel denied your revenge?”

Karkat pauses. “I don’t know about that. Something tells me that whatever end they came to, I doubt it was pleasant. I just feel bad for all their victims and how they corrupted a good place. Trolls need to have a place where they can feel safe, especially mutant bloods. They shouldn’t be connected to the same elements that traumatized them in the first place.”

You never thought Karkat would head down the dark path Sergei did but unlike Sergei, he veered off of it. He’s not power hungry like him and Meliak. “You’re right. Maybe you can change things back to what they were _supposed_ to be at the Railway, but I doubt it’ll be easy.”

Karkat grins. “Good. If it was too easy, I’d lose interest.” He sighs. “Though I should be figuring out who owns the Railway now. Hopefully I won’t have to deal with another stupid bank.”

You know he was at a meeting earlier today about buying the old Nitram property, but you have no idea about the why. Petros hasn’t mentioned it since that subject falls under taboo topics.

“What exactly _is_ going on between Petros and you?” you ask.

Karkat rolls his eyes. “We’re not interested in each other.”

Petros is standoffish as he is with everyone but Karkat’s behavior in his presence wavers between friendly, annoyed, and putting up the occasional wall. “Far be for me to be a busybody like Kankri is, but I think you’re interested. You just don’t know what to _do_ with your feeling.”

Karkat scowls bitterly, glaring at you. It’s a look you never expected him to wear in regards to romance. “We _already fucking talked about it_ and agreed it’s not for the best situation right now,” He scratches his scalp, squinting, “I’m not going to deny he’s attractive but there’s something about him I don’t like. I have all my grandfather’s memories now but everything involving the Summoner— _Petros_ —is blurry. Like I’m not _allowed_ to see.”

“Not _allowed_? By what, exactly?”

“I don’t know. My brain?” Karkat sighs, “It’s frustrating. It’s like…I know _something_ is there but it’s blurred, like what they do to nudity on TV. I know the blurred thing is about Petros but every time I try to ‘see’ it, I get a _serious_ migraine.”

Now you’re frowning. “Karkat--”

Karkat holds up his hand. “I know. Everyone’s scared of me flipping out like Feferi, but I’m _fine_. I’m not pushing it and I’m strictly platonic with Petros.”

“Oh really?” You try to keep the skepticism out of your voice but you remember what happened the last time Karkat entered his heat cycle.

“I’m serious.” Karkat insists, sitting back on the couch, “If I’m going to sleep with someone, I want it to be in a committed relationship. I want to happily tell my matesprit we’re going to start a family, not spend hours arguing with my ex. I need a break from all the romantic entanglements I seem to attract. I’m going to buy a collar, hormone suppressants, and anything else that’ll help. That way I can go around in public without getting harassed.”

“I doubt anyone’s going to harass you at your size.”

Karkat snorts. “Oh, I still get harassed. It’s just a _different_ kind of harassment. Instead of them trying to fuck me, they want me to fuck them. _Both_ are unwanted.”

“Good luck staying out of it.” You don’t sound enthused but you think Karkat is right about needing a break from quadrant related drama.

Your greater concern is with his memory but tou’ll deal with it as it comes. The house phone rings and the ID tells you it’s Roxy.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Jane’s awake!” She squeals in your ear.

The room briefly spins before you stand and go searching for your raincoat. It’s pouring outside and you don’t want to get soaked. “Meet you at the hospital.” you say into the phone, stunned.  


	4. the second night alone

**== >Dirk: Be Cronus currently **

You walk down the steps of the police station, balancing the grub carrying case in one hand and the umbrella is the other. Karcin is growling, gnawing at the T-shirt lining the bottom of the basket and wearing his harness. You’ve had to put him on it (while being growled at and bitten) so that he won’t run and hide somewhere.  

“What am I going to do with you…?” you sigh, looking down at him.

Karcin’s answer is a growl. You think if he was less aggressive, he would be whimpering. He must miss Meliak or at least Sergei, who seemed to fawn over him more than the other mutantblood. You get into the car, putting Karcin in his car seat, and give him the stuffed horseshoe crab you know he’s fond of.

“The police said you’re a ward of a state until someone claims you, but no one’s going to.” you say on the drive home, “I don’t want them to put you in a foster home. I’ve seen the trolls in foster homes. You’d be better off with the NJSPCA. But I can’t afford to take you in. I moved all the way out here to _conserve_ money…”

You stop at a red light and look at Karcin, who is gnawing on his toy. He pulls his mouth off of the stuffed horseshoe crab, chirps at you, and then goes right back to gnawing. You don’t know if that means he agrees or not. He’s close to molting and this is a critical time for troll development, when his earliest memories are being formed. Abandoning him now could give him lifelong emotional issues.

“I can’t seriously be considering this.” you say, “Your brain’s the size of a golf ball now. You’re not going to remember me in the future. I doubt you can remember what you had for breakfast.”

Karcin glowers and chucks the stuffed crab at your face. Then he glares at it and then you. You sigh and pick it up, handing the toy back to him. Traffic breaks up and you continue home.

“That’s the last time I’m doing that!” you tell Karcin for the seventh time today. Karcin growls and you return to arguing with yourself. “I don’t need the stress of a kid either. Sitters, play dates, PTA meetings—gods, don’t get me _started_ on those PTA meetings. Nothing but uptight nosy assholes!”

“Churr? Skurr?” is Karcin’s comment.

“I _really_ can’t take care of you. The responsible thing to do would be hand you off to the state. I’m sure they’ll find you a good home.” You pause, considering your words, and then shake your head. “Gods, _I_ don’t even believe that. But I can’t take you in. I just…can’t…but maybe…”

The debate circles again. When you arrive home, Karcin is asleep but wriggling in his car seat. He must be having a nightmare. When you pick him up he wakes up, still whimpering and sniffling. He starts crying and scowling, as if he doesn’t want to admit he’s upset. Even the stuffed horseshoe crab doesn’t soothe him this time.  

“I think we were at the station for too long. You’re acting like you need a nap.” You sigh.

Karcin’s fussing grows louder and starts making a noise like “Nurrr!” or maybe “Nooo!”.

Seeing him tear up puts the final nail in the argument’s coffin. You walk up the stairs, looking down at the fussy grub. “I’m going to regret this when you’re a teenager.”

Karcin’s response is to start heaving and before you can move him away, he vomits onto your shirt. So he wasn’t fussy because of exhaustion; it was just a bad idea to let him gorge on French fries while you were stuck at the station.

“Oh yeah,” you sigh, “I’m already regretting this choice.”

You head inside to discard the shirt and give Karcin a soothing bath. It’s going to be a long night.


	5. through the heart

**== >Cronus: Be Terezi later than night **

You’re sitting in your home typing an essay while Kankri writes an article of his own regarding the current political maneuvers by the mayor to maintain in popularity and try to tamper on the issue of crime and police corruption within the city. The TV is playing a sitcom but you’re barely paying attention to it.

“I hope I don’t alienate anyone with this article.” Kankri says, “Aranea says I’m becoming less of a social justice writer and more of a political commenter.”

The phone rings and you pick up. It’s Karkat and he pants into the phone, “Terezi, turn to ABC-1025, like right now.”

You take the remote and turn to the aforementioned channel. “What’s going on?”

Then your brain registers the color and sound from the channel. It puts together the swampy scenery not too far from your neighborhood, full of abandoned construction equipment entangled with kudzu. Police cars flash, surrounding the area while a crew dredges the scummy glowing waters in bright orange hazmat suits. Kankri stiffens and goes incredibly still as the report plays out. 

“—area was discovered by a homeless man who noticed smoke coming from deep in the swamp.” says the reporter on the scene. They sound choked up, perhaps terrified, “Fearing a chemical fire, they reported it to the fire department that discovered the remains of an illegal bonfire. The fire fighters was willing to write it off until one of them stepped on something in the swamp that was quote ‘too hard and lumpy just to be a branch’. It was then that the firemen uncovered several bodies hidden within the swamps.”

The reporter then goes into horrifying detail about the state of the recently found bodies. They estimated their age to not be more than a day old but that wasn’t the most disturbing news. There was a possibility of there being _other_ bodies in the swamp; bodies that had decayed so badly only shards of bone and teeth were left.

Kankri only take ten minutes of the report before he leaves for the bedroom. You can’t move from the couch.

“Karkat? Are you still there?” you whisper.

“Y-yeah…” Karkat mutters, “They haven’t identified the bodies yet but...”

“Maybe you should…turn off the TV.” you suggest, “This is the last thing you need to see right now.”

“Yeah,” Karkat agrees, “maybe I should…night, Rezi.”

Karkat hangs up and the reporter is now speaking with a rustblood coroner. “The bodies were burnt beyond recognition but not before having their chest caved by the intense force of a lance-like weapon. Several bones were broken during the struggle and judging by the bodies we found it must have been one against seven, at the least. This is a method of murder I haven’t seen or heard about in years.”

Your blood feels several degrees chilled when you hear ‘lance-like weapon’. Kankri still hasn’t returned to the living room.

“Do you think we have a serial killer on our hands?”  

The rustblood shakes her head. “Definitely not. That’s just ridiculous. These are the calling cards of a cult-like killer.”

You turn the channel as soon as the report goes back to the studio and the talking heads begin discussing the Psionic’s murder twenty years ago. You get on Trollichum immediately.

 

\--gallowsCalibrator[GC] began trolling adiosToreador[AT]!--

 

GC: T4VROS 4R3 YOU TH3R3?

AT: hOLY SHIT, i WAS JUST GETTING READY TO MESSAGE YOU,

GC: R34LLY?

AT: yEAH, i WANTED TO SHOW YOU THIS AWESOME VIDEO I JUST TOOK,

 

\--adiosToreador[AT] just sent roachdeath.mp4 to gallowsCalibrator[GC]!—

 

It’s a brief video shot on an iHusk. It depicts a giant cockroach crawling across the Nitram kitchen floor. It head towards a Dorito lying in the open and pauses, staying still. There’s muttering in the background but then a butter knife flies across the screen, immediately pinning the roach to the floor. 

“ _Booyah_!” Petros laughs.

“Holy shit, you _nailed_ it!” Gamzee says.

You go back to Trollichum.

 

GC: YOUR GR4NDF4TH3R JUST D1D TH1S?

AT: yEAH, i SAW THE ROACH AND SORT OF,,,SCREAMED,,,ABOUT IT, aND GAMZEE DIDN’T WANT TO GO NEAR IT BECAUSE OF HOW BIG IT WAS,

AT: gRANDPA’S GOT LIKE REALLY GOOD AIM,

GC: 1NT3R3ST1NG

GC: T4VROS DO3S YOUR GR4NDF4TH3R OWN 4 L4NC3?

AT: uM,,, i DON’T KNOW,,,

AT: LANCES ARE BIG AND HEAVY, hE DOESN’T REALLY KEEP A LOT ON HIM, hE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A PLACE TO PUT A LANCE,

GC: H3 COULD B3 H1D1NG 1T

AT: wHERE? uP HIS WASTE CHUTE? iN A TREE?

GC: WHY WOULD 1T B3 1N 4 TR33?

AT: hE SLEEPS IN TREES UPSIDE DOWN, lIKE A BAT, wITH BATS, iT’S CUTE,

 

\--adiosToreador[AT] sent gallowsCalibrator[GC] grandpasleeping.jpg!—

 

GC: H4V3 YOU B33N T4K1NG NONSTOP P1CTUR3S OF YOUR GR4NDF4TH3R?

AT: i’VE BEEN TAKING A LOT OF PICTURES FOR THE PHOTO ALBUMS

GC: D1D YOU S33 TH3 N3WS? TH3R3 W4S 4 SUSP3CT3D CULT K1LL1NG 1N ON3 OF TH3 W1LD C3SSPOOL

AT: wHERE’S THE WILD CESSPOOL?

GC: 1TS 1N ON3 OF TH3 B4CKWOOD SWAMPY 4RE4S TH4T 1S LEG1T1M4T3LY D4NG3ROUS 4ND TOX1C

GC: 4LSO 1T GLOWS

AT: wEIRD,,,

AT: aLSO: YOU THINK MY GRANDFATHER WAS INVOLVED IN THAT MURDER?

GC: W3LL TH3 K1LL1NG SUPPOS3DLY OCCURED Y3ST3RD4Y 4ND 1 R3M3MB3R YOU S4Y1NG YOUR GR4NDF4TH3R W4S OUT 4T TH4T T1M3

AT: yEAH BUT HE’S ALWAYS OUT AND SO IS DAD, tHAT DOESN’T MAKE THEM MURDERERS, iT’S WEIRD BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE’S KILLED SOMEONE,

GC: DO YOU KNOW YOUR GR4NDF4TH3R’S R3L1G1OUS B3L13FS?

AT: nO, cAUSE THAT SORT OF THING DOESN’T COME UP WITH MY SUPER SECULAR FAMILY,,,

GC: DO YOU TH1NK H3 COULD B3 1N TH3 SUSP3CT3D CULT 1N TH1S MURD3R? YOU SH4R3 4 ROOM W1TH H1M. DO3S H3 C4RRY 4NYTH1NG SUSP1C1OUS L1K3 4 GR1MO1R3 M4D3 OF TROLL SK1N?

AT: nO, bUT I DON’T GO LOOKING THORUGH HIS THINGS EITHER,

AT: i KNOW HE’S A COSTCO MEMBER,

GC: COSTCO 1S NOT 4 CULT, N1TR4M

AT: mAYBE IT’S A CODE WORD? mAYBE HIS COSTCO CARD HAS LIKE,,, SECRETS,

GC: UNL3SS TH3Y’R3 S3CRETS 4BOUT 4LL TH4 GR3AT COSTCO SAV1NGS 1 DOUBT TH4T

GC: W3LL LOOK 1NTO 1T N1TR4M! YOU’R3 4 COPP3R 4FT3R 4LL! >:]

AT: i THOUGHT WE WEREN’T CALAING OURSELVES THAT,,,

GC: 1 COULDN’T TH1NK OF 4 B3TT3R N4M3

AT: i DID FIND A WAY TO DATE GRANDPA BY ASKING HIM ABOUT DIFFERENT AGES, AND BY ‘DATE GRANDPA’ I MEAN I BROUGHT UP A LOT OF DATED POP CULTURE REFERENCES WHILE WE WERE WATCHING RERUNS OF EIGHTH AGE TV SHOWS,

AT: hE REMEMBERS THE SEVENTH AGE VIVIDLY SO THAT MEANS HE’S AS OLD AS THE OTHER GRANDPARENTS, OR AT LEAST LIVED DURING THAT TIME PERIOD,

GC: C4N YOU TH1NK OF WHY H3 ST1LL LOOKS L1K3 H3’S TW3NTY? OR TW3NTY1SH?

AT: nOT FOR ANY REASON THAT MAKES SENSE, NOT EVEN TROLL LANCE ARMSTRONG COULD PULL THAT OFF, STEROIDS OR NOT,

GC: W3’LL FOCUS ON F1GUR1NG TH4T OUT 4ND TRY TO S33 WH4T’S 1N H1S ROOM

AT: aLRIGHT,

 

\--gallowsCalibrator[GC] ceased trolling adiosToreador[AT]!--

 

You leave the laptop and go into the bedroom. Kankri is curled up on the daybed, shuddering and eyes squeezed as tight. You sit next to him and touch his shoulder.

“Kankri?” you ask. He doesn’t answer. “Is that what you saw yesterday?” Kankri looks at you, eyes wide and watery. You know he wants to answer but he’s too scared. “Kankri, you can tell me what happened. What you saw.”

Kankri swallows and shakes his head. “I…I can’t. I’m sorry…I just…”

You shush him and hold him close. He’s still in no condition to talk about this and it must tear him up inside. “It’s alright, Kankri. They’ll find out who did this.”  


End file.
